


Sin Intención

by Kinkerbell-made-me-do-it (TheMusicalCC)



Category: Book of Life (2014)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Fuckbuddies, Post-Coital Cuddling, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 20:35:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16878729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMusicalCC/pseuds/Kinkerbell-made-me-do-it
Summary: It may be starting to turn into more than just a friendship with benefits.





	Sin Intención

**Author's Note:**

> (Title means 'Unintentional') Transfer from Tumblr. Based on Zabchan's headcanons and interpretations.

“You have…quite a lot of scars, hmm?” she mutters one time as he slows down the steady thrusts of his pelvis and they catch their breath after the fourth -was it the fourth? Maybe the fifth?- round of the night. La Noche runs a hand over three pale, rugged lines that adorn Chamuel’s chest.

( _If she’s true to herself, she likes Chamuco better than Chamuel, even if he insists that it’s a pagan name, unfit of someone in his position…he can’t quite hide the sparkle_ _in_ _his eyes when she calls him that, thought, as if it were some sort of private joke between them despite the fact that half the deities in Nueva España give him that name_ )

( _…it may have to do with her being the only one to do it_ _ **to his face**_ )

He lets out a chuckle that’s not quite one, eyes as blue as the water in a  _cenote_  set on hers and her heartbeat, that had been slowing down steadily after the last agonizing shudder of her orgasm, speeds up again.

“I’ve…had quite a lot…of battles” he says, before pushing one last time with a satisfied grunt, riding the last sparkled tails of his climax, making her let out a breathy whine. Her thighs feel sticky and her insides are comfortably, deliciously full of him and his arms around her provide a comfort she only ever realized she wanted when she realized she was in the midst of it. La Noche’s a little sorry when he pulls out with a wet noise and settles down more comfortably, breath labored. She traces the scars again, from side to side, three fingers mimicking the act of a claw scratching over his skin, as if trying to memorize them.

“Who gave you this one?” she mutters.

“A demon” he shifts his shoulders and wings slightly and she thinks he’s going to move away, but it seems to be just to adjust himself to the new position, pressing her closer.

“Did it hurt?”

He smirks a bit, there’s something of a fisherman who’s seen the string tense in the gesture.

“ _Like hell_ ”

( _Oh, Gods, he has a sense of humor_ )

She laughs a little, despite herself, as his nose nuzzles the crook of her neck, beard tickling her skin and chuckles rumbling within her skin. He’s probably just giddy with satisfaction, but this feels so -dare she think it?- romantic, or close to it, that he squirms and blushes, her mouth forming a helpless smile.

“W-was it bad?” she asks, just for the sake of saying something and keeping her mouth busy “I mean…d-did it bleed a lot?”

“You mean…if it was deep?”

“ _Yes_ ” she all but sighs.

His teeth graze her skin for a moment and he hisses at the taste.

( _She remembers the first time he kissed her, how wide his eyes got. Had he been expecting sugar? Something within her aches at the thought_ )

“…very”

“Oh?”

His eyes set on hers again.

( _Seriously, how are they so blue?_ )

“Almost made it all the way to my heart”

Something that’s not quite desire pools within her. It’s warm and bright, but it feels more like something fuzzy than something scorching.

“I don’t see any scars on you,  _Nochessa_ ” he continues, tracing hands over her sides, over spirals and white spice “Has it ever happened to you? Have you had something almost touch your heart?”

For a moment she thinks of Xibalba, but it’s fleeting, and it doesn’t hurt quite as much anymore. Instead she drags Chamuco’s hand over her skin and to her chest, above a round breast, which he squeezes lightly, before dragging his palm to her back again. Being who she is, she would rather focus on how good this feels. His heat, his hands, his heartbeat, the liquid warmth dripping between her legs, running her hand on top of his hairy chest, the color of his eyes, the shape of his jaw…

( _And she could just **scream**  because she should not be feeling this way, this isn’t supossed to happen, he isn’t suppossed to look at her like this….unless she’s imagining it? Unless all he sees is a face so much alike the one of the woman he loves and all she sees is something to kill her sorrow and this isn’t real at all, but it feels real and-_) 

“I don’t think anyone’s after my heart” she mutters, realizing all too late that it sounds like a reproach. But he nods, as if he’d been expecting the answer; before making himself comfortable, still holding her close, his eyes half-lidded. 

“…their loss” for a moment she’s sure she heard wrong, but he continues, a yawn on his voice “They don’t know what they’re missing on…”

Them. As in ‘ _Not me_ ’.

She has a hunch he might be lying or just too groggy to think straight, but something flutters within her.

**Author's Note:**

> Remember when I skipped to the post-coital stuff because I was flustered to write anything too wild? Hah. To be young and innocent again.
> 
> (It was like three years ago, shh)
> 
> Title inspired by the Raúl Ornelas song of the same title.


End file.
